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A. in a text this morning: Don't you think it's weird we're meeting up on Valentine's Day?
Me: No. Do you suddenly have something better and much more exciting on your agenda?
Half the world is trying to fence me a guilt trip because I prefer to ignore Valentine's Day. I consider it a celebration of puberal, hormone-laden bodies running around in schools tossing red roses around (speaking of cheep-o presents). I have been ignoring it for the last six years, and am determined to keep on ignoring it.
But when even my date for Wednesday, so I can escape my workaholic, PhD writing boyfriend, questions my sincerity, I cannot let an ordinary February day pass without notice: Happy Not-Valentine's Day, P.
Me: No. Do you suddenly have something better and much more exciting on your agenda?
Half the world is trying to fence me a guilt trip because I prefer to ignore Valentine's Day. I consider it a celebration of puberal, hormone-laden bodies running around in schools tossing red roses around (speaking of cheep-o presents). I have been ignoring it for the last six years, and am determined to keep on ignoring it.
But when even my date for Wednesday, so I can escape my workaholic, PhD writing boyfriend, questions my sincerity, I cannot let an ordinary February day pass without notice: Happy Not-Valentine's Day, P.
